


aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

by Black, smooshkin



Series: KingSlayer [10]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: But handled respectfully, Gore, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, but not in the sexual way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 22:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12094704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooshkin/pseuds/smooshkin
Summary: a bunch of bad things happen and nobody has a good time.





	aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

**Author's Note:**

> Helllllo. Uh. This one is a bit of a heavy one in terms of content. Everything I think we handled respectfully, but there IS rape, bodily harm and gore with a power tool, and humiliation. I've tagged all accordingly. My Koller got to lend a hand in this one. Thumbs up emoji. 
> 
> Ennnjoy. 
> 
> Smoosh starts off with David and I follow in with Adam.

= * =

He'd told him to be safe if he was going out. He was going out either way, but saying it somehow made David feel better.  
  
He'd been sitting at his desk; Watched him leave with upturned brows, chin downcast. His suit jacket was folded over the back of his seat and his legs were folded neatly in front of him. He'd left the shoes off to work today.  
  
Come on, David... India is beautiful. You want him to see it- he's not a zoo animal. It'll be fine. Fine. Fine.  
  
He filled up his mind with random words for as long as it took for Adam to be out of the condo, knowing he'd try to stop him if allowed to think too much about it.  
  
David hadn't told him yet. Hadn't told him the state of things in India and- While he knew Adam watched the news- things here in Mumbai were a little more personal. He was _David Sarif._ The sinner. One of the most maligned men in the world in the wake of the incident.  
  
Sure, some still loved him. In fact, many did. But augmentation supporters these days were quiet, wary and very, very cautious. None of them had the resources they used too, owing to the immediate lack of support following the crisis.  
  
Mumbai was the front line of that battle right now. Biotech firms with iron wills like LTech were starting from the bottom- David had already invested a good deal of his remaining assets in their growth and sometimes- that amount of money was impossible to pass into another palm without someone noticing.  
  
To clarify; The wrong people noticing.  
  
He didn't tell Adam that the wrong people were _quite_ aware of mighty Sarif's presence in the city. Were _quite_ aware of Mumbai's quickly growing biotech industry and it didn't take long for the wrong people to put two and two together.  
  
To make a soon-bloody whole. Business was war. Often cold. And David has been alone, with only two eyes.  
  
He looks up at the front door on the other side of their condo, tapping a finger on his desk, quickly lost in thought.  
  
\---

The silence Adam might have gotten used to in the condo was far away in the streets of Mumbai. It was a lively place, filled with people, sounds, voices. Animals could be found in the streets, looking perfectly healthy. There were less cars than you'd expect from a city this size, most choosing to ride by on over-laden bicycles or eating their lunch quickly on a rickshaw taking them back to work.  
  
The corporate district in the south was a pincushion of high-rises and strung with aircraft. The market and downtown was a flurry of colour. Colour of wares, clothes, skin. Everyone was, for the most part, friendly.  
  
India was defined by a strange disagreement with itself. The people wanted peace. They wanted happiness. The incident had threatened that. Some blamed augs, some blamed the government. Some blamed no one and continued to pray.  
  
Those obviously augmented may enjoy proper treatment, or they may be unlucky enough to live in a pocket of the city where they were treated worse than animals. Much of this? Defined by money, the way you dress and who you know. Standard India, really.  
  
Adam would have found himself treated politely by most. Aside from many obviously fearful glances that often came from the same, that is. Except from local children who lived near the market. They knew the regular faces and Adam was among them. He'd have a small entourage of children in white kurta following him a distance away and grinning the way children did when they were noticed.  
  
But a man dressed that nice, who smells that nice, who looks that groomed- the local _adult_ populace would often guess he worked somewhere with a lot of money. They wouldn't dare piss off money.  
  
Money had all the power in Mumbai and you didn't want to accidentally get the wrong money to notice you.

Case in point; Adam would have found himself flanked by a pair of local men. They were also dressed nicely. Sunglasses, gold jewelry, fine trousers and designer kurta. One smiled and threw an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Hey, man! Here lemme get that for you." He'd say with a heavy accent as the other bumped into his other side. They'd try to take anything he was carrying to keep it from dropping and causing a scene.  
  
A click and vaguely magnetic pulse that felt much like getting an x-ray heralded a hand quickly brought forward with an auto-injection of Propofol.  
  
"Woah! Easy there, buddy! You must be dehydrated- Come on, Khanj, let's get him home."

= * =

David told him to be safe if he was going out.  
Adam supposed that made him feel better - He was going out either way, the urge to lay around at home today was little to none and the coffee that the girls had picked up from them was...lacking.  
  
He didn’t quite know how to explain it - he just wanted something more. One of the first times he had ventured out into town, he had picked some up from a specific merchant that had almost brought tears to his eyes. _She_ had seemed afraid at first, though seemed to have slowly grown used to him as he kept coming back around.  
  
The only thing the tall, scary augged man had wanted was coffee. She was still wary of him but at least she didn’t let that fearful, fake smile curl her lips anymore. At least she just looked put off - He didn’t blame her.  
  
Adam is a walking weapon -  
How could he blame anyone?  
  
Such a far cry from the hungry hands seeking to touch him - he almost missed them. Almost.  
  
“I’ll be back, David.” Adam would have stopped by him on the way out to squeeze his shoulder and brush his lips to the older man’s temple, “I won’t be long.” Anything to put him at ease - he could feel the tension riddled in his neck. He found it strange - yes, he’d have to ask what was troubling him later.  
  
Something had to be.  
Adam lets it go, for now.  
  
Mumbai is full of color and bustle - nothing like Detroit in the way of energy, but her people loved her. He had gotten to know familiar faces just in the few times he’s ventured out - including the small pack of stray dogs that had made home at the end of a street near the market place. Maybe it eased the people who saw him kneeling and crammed in the middle of four furry bodies, eager to have him touch them. scratch behind their ears and ruffle their royal necks.  
  
They made him miss Kubrick -  
He thinks of Megan.  
One of the dogs presses to his chest.  
He forgets Megan.

His walk into town is mostly calm; he tenses up as a few wild children pass him, twisting and shouting as they chased things that Adam couldn’t see. joyous. Some ghost of a smile haunted him as he watched them play, rattle around the market place, and also curiously stalk him. When he would turn to them, they would grin - some would hold their ground and others would turn as if bashful.  
  
He knew he was different, interesting.  
Scary, even.  
  
That reflected in the eyes of those much, much older. Adam tried to keep his voice quiet and level, with  
  
“Meera,” a nod - the greeting a little gruffer than he was trying for. The merchant lifts her head and hesitates, offering him a hesitant smile as she recognizes him.  
  
She’s already grabbing all she needs in order to package up his coffee. “Mr. Jensen,” her voice is small and so is she, but Adam can tell she’s been through a lot. She has to be brave. Her younger daughters are behind her, eyes downcast and shy - two of them older, the third still fairly young, “The usual amount?”  
  
He nods thoughtfully, and then considers, “Just a little more, if you could?”  
  
They exchange goods - always formally and politely. Adam tugs his coffee close and tilts his head respectfully, again. He gives his thanks and his goodbye and he rolls his shoulders,  
  
thinking that on the way home, maybe he’ll map out the area around their condo. Know what’s around if he needs it. When he gets home, he’ll brew the both of them a _decent_ cup of coffee and he’ll try to prod Sarif into talking to him. Telling him what’s wrong -

All of the color is dizzyingly beautiful - it’s a blur as two men come uncomfortably close to him. They project as friendly, but heaviness winds itself through Adam’s augs and they hum near angrily with the sudden tension. “I’m _fine_ ,” he says a little stiffly, trying to shrug his shoulder away from the one that’s wrapped his arm around him. The touch isn’t welcomed and his skin crawls and he -  
  
Something.  
_Something_ .  
Something shocks his system and his thoughts disrupt - he does let go of the coffee that one of them had been trying to gently wrestle away from him. It looks like a good natured act -  
  
Adam feels sluggish, the sentinel murmuring in a stutter and his HUD is flickering and then there’s something absolutely cold that strikes him. Like a viper’s bite - the snake charmer plays a song all of his own and it’s cotton in Adam’s ears.  
  
The one he called Khanj laughed a little and feigned surprise, hands heavy on him as he tucks the coffee under his arm, “It is hot out today Jai, he must have not been drinking enough.”  
  
“Fuck _you_ ,” Adam manages to hiss between them, baring his own fangs and he  
  
needs to stay awake stay awake Adam your system will filter this and you can break away fro m this st ay a w ake who are these people an d h ow d  
id the  
y  
…  
  
fu c  
k.  
  
D avid.  
  
  
...sor ry.

= * =

Presumably, the two had easily dragged the drugged aug aside. No one would have questioned them as they pulled him into a white luxury car that everyone had come to recognize.  
  
They didn't know the name. They just knew the money.  
  
Life in the market quickly healed over the incision they'd caused.  
  
"Can he hear us?"  
"Ahh-..." Someone is looking at the auto-injector. "Probably not. Not with that dosage."  
"Did anyone see?"  
"Do you think that matters? You ask too many questions. Always did."  
  
The car pulls into the gate of one of the private drives in town. The one called Jai had a leg up lazily on the seat. He was chewing gum and tapping at his phone.  
The other, Khanjar, was checking his nails, a grip on their catatonic companion.  
  
"Go tell them we need help! He's heavy. Darukh, get his legs."  
"Christ, look at the hardware on this joker."  
  
Darukh was a tall man of local flavour. Perhaps the largest of them so far. He had a moustache, expensive sunglasses and his suit floated off his body enough to suggest he had a pair of guns somewhere near his ribs.  
  
He carried Adam most of the way over his shoulder through a stone-tiled courtyard, the ground dappled with sunshine.

And into a large home. A mansion, really. There were several cars parked out front just like the other.  
  
The floor was tiled, gilded in gold around the edges and through the designs.  
  
"Maaan- Sharukh just called and he says we gotta 'be careful'." Came the voice of Jai. The words 'be careful' were said with mocking disdain. "Like- what's that even mean, guys? We gotta fuck him up- how you fuck a guy up 'carefully', man?"  
  
A laugh and more footsteps tapped on the marble tile. Darukh would have dropped Adam on a sofa in a contemporary-style den somewhere on the second floor.  
  
"I dunno- if he expects work-in-progress shots this time, I'm fuckin' walkin', buddy."  
"You do that and Sharukh's gonna walk all over your face in cleats and make you say 'thank you'."  
  
A string of Hindi follows; Someone tightens an industrial cable-hasp around Adam's wrists after pulling them behind him.  
  
"Nice lookin' guy, hm?" Khanjar says, sitting down next to him and patting his cheek. "Hey, man. I made a promise and you gotta wake up for it, yeah?"  
  
Darukh and Jai hovered nearby. Three others were in the room, two of which were sitting at a desk across from each other, a stack of money between them as they laughed, chatting excitably in Hindi. They didn't seem interested. A third was smoking near an open bay-window that held a beautiful view of the mansion-owner's garden.

= * =

Hazy hazy.  
Ears jammed with cotton, fluff. coiled in his throat and growing. fuck. _fuck_ . Somebody has him and he’s not sure who. They handle him with ease and he can feel it and he thinks he may be somewhat conscious aware here  
  
no, not here  
  
there.  
maybe there.  
  
Oh.  
  
Adam gives a pitiful groan as he’s shifted and moved and he knows he’s tossed into a car once they turn over the engine and it starts driving and his teeth are in his tongue and his HUD is flickering low and it’s  
  
he’s trying to wake up the Sentinel before they get too far into  
he’s trying to  
  
wake up through the fog. fixated in his eyes and it’s seeping into his skin and everything is cold but his stomach is hot and writhing with sickness and anger. some fluttering thought is a dash of anger that he can’t have that cup of coffee he wanted so god damn bad.  
  
Ah, David.  
Oh, David.  
  
He was  
He was worried and was this what he was worried about? who were these people and if he knew, why hadn’t be brought it up? Maybe it was only him, maybe this didn’t have anything to do with David but he  
  
Adam, who are you kidding?  
You’re in so fucking deep.  
  
His augs are heavy heavy heavy slates of polycarbonate and he can’t quite get _anything_ to respond. He wants to snarl and snap and bare his claws and hook his fingers and tear and tear because _people are touching him_ and he’s hot and furious and chilled and

He’s being moved again - with ease. his fingers twitch but nothing happens and there’s a curl of gold and cold and his head wobbles with some cognitive crunch - something. something. swimming. Adam knows he’s on soft fabric - a couch or a chair maybe and it’s too fucking late when they  
  
bind his arms and he knows he’s at their mercy for the moment his wrists press tight - his comfort is beyond them and he quietly groans as the sentinel starts to churn and sputter. There’s something hitting his cheek and he opens his eyes. tries to. a blur. whatever they hit him with must have shorted his eye lens because he’s squeezing them shut and he turns his head and the fabric is brushing the corner of his eyes and  
  
he’s turning again, swallowing around his tongue and looking up at the current touch; his eyes snap and fixate on Khanjar. drunk and sharp, like a predator that’s been pricked with a tranquilizer. Adam would be stumbling if they didn’t have him resting.  
  
His eyes flicker and try to focus and all he can make out are tiles and bodies and the fingers on his cheek and he’s trying to lean away from them, sighing through his nose and the Sentinel starts to chew  
  
and chew  
and chew  
and chew  
  
(he flexes his arms)  
(he meets Jai’s eyes)  
  
and chew.

= * =

Khanjar had leaned back. He wasn't a bad looking guy himself, but he had an unattractive conceitedness to his demeanor. He reached up to lower his sunglasses to meet Adam's eyes. His own were dark.  
  
"Ohh- ohh." He warbled, finger hooking around them and he sets them aside. "You've got the look of a guy who's done some killing. You're not afraid of me, are you?"  
  
He had a lazy manner as he leaned on the sofa. He clicked his teeth.  
  
"Gonna need to change that or Sharukh's not gonna be happy with me." His tone lilts and he rolls his head to the side.  
  
"Jai, keep the EMP handy." He turns back to Adam. "Thanks for the coffee. You have good taste."  
  
"Good taste in fashion, too." Darukh finally says. Oh. He had Adam's coat folded over his arm. He jerks it onto the back of an elaborate chair by a bookcase.  
  
"Yeah-- Speaking of--" Khanjar gives Adam a salacious grin, eyes flickering up and down. He reaches out to take him under the jaw, careful not to get bit. He turns his head to the side, thumb pressing uncomfortably against the scar scoring it.  
  
"You're a handsome guy uh- Mr...Jensen. I know someone who'd pay just as handsomely for you and that fancy tech."  
  
"Doesn't Ming only like girls?" The smoker by the window interjects casually.  
  
Jai quickly pulls out his phone and holds it up. Khanjar laughs and tries to force Adam to look into the camera as the younger man takes a picture of them. Khanjar grins, sticking his tongue out.

They laugh more and exchange something in Hindi before Jai turns around, tapping away on his phone.  
  
Khanjar lets him go to light up a smoke. He mutters into the cigarette as he does so.  
  
"Sorry, man- you should know I hate to do this but uh-.."  
  
He turns on the sofa and gets to his feet. "You picked the wrong lap to curl up in, it seems."  
  
He had a hand in his pocket, shoulders drooped lazily.  
  
He flicks some ash off between them.

= * =

His eyes remain a muzzy sharp - a faux aware.  
He thinks it may be futile; they know how much they’ve given him and they know he’ll be out of it for at least a short while longer. But -  
  
Sharukh.  
Adam teeths the name, keeps it in the back of his teeth and he’ll remember it. Lucid or not, he’s torn into it now and he’s going to hold it to himself tight. He’s aware enough to make the simple observation that they’re confident. cocky. they don’t seem to have the slightest bit of concern over the fact they’ve just picked him up off the street.  
  
Kidnapped.  
Ah.  
There’s the word.  
  
His eyes clear a bit more and he bites the side of his tongue to bring himself back. back. Come back Adam.  
  
EMP.  
  
  
Makes sense -- He manages to make a soft noise of discontent at the mention of his coffee, the one thing he had wanted, being thieved from him. He sighs through his nose and, let it go Adam. You can always go see Meera after this fuckery and pick up some more. You can always go home and make a cup to share with David. You can always talk to him. Coax him into telling you  
  
what the fuck is going on, here.  
  
Adam’s eyes flicker to the one holding his coat and there’s a roll of heat through him - fuck. _fuck_ . There’s some split second that he feels sick and exposed - he pins blame on whatever is still in his system  
  
...and the hand now on his jaw.  
He’s used to Sarif’s gentle touch, appreciative and loving. loving. here and that smile and the praise and he’s...glad he didn’t wear the collar today. They would have had a field day with that. A ripple of relief - masked aptly at the fuzzy snarl he gives at the thumb over the scarring. pressing. a little harder than he would have liked.

and  
  
…for _him_ and his tech.  
  
something catches in his throat and he tries to look away pull away as these fucks take a picture of him like some product and  
  
“He’s pretty enough that Ming may not mind.”  
One at the table snorts, thumbing through a stack of money - “Worth a try.”  
  
...in academy, they had taught him a simple phrase: _Detach now, cope later._  
He hadn’t understood it at first. Of course, back then, he didn’t understand a lot of the things he’d be going through. On his first abuse call - it had clicked. A child bloody in his arms and sobbing, nothing in his chest as he walked her to the ambulance. He kept muttering to her. Assuring her it’d be okay --  
  
De…  
Detach now, cope later - Adam, do you hear me?  
  
He’s still a little hazed but, “Yeah...sure, fuck you.” Adam turns his head to mutter it as he wheezes out, furrowing his brows and trying to ease the sentinel into flushing the rest of his system. He flexes his arms again and his augs rattle quietly as he feels them out.  
  
Stop talking, shut up.  
Shut down.  
We’ve been through this before - shake the fog and _detach_ , Adam.

= * =

Jai laughs. "Yeah, man, Ming likes girls, but he saaaays.." He held up a finger, looking at his phone. "He says he'd make an exception for this pretty guy."  
  
"What, really?" Khanjar turns to look at some text conversation. Jai pull it away and gestures widely and vaguely.  
  
"Maan, it doesn't matter. Ming can't have this one, remember?"  
  
"Fuckin' bummer. Ming's got the moneeey." Khanjar grins at Adam. "Oh, well." He takes a drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in the man's direction.  
  
Darukh hands him something as he extends a hand sideways.  
  
A gun? No. He tests the weight of it and a little click and metallic scream gave it away as a cordless power-drill. Khanjar eyes it while taking a long drag, expression just a little more serious.  
  
"Mr. Jensen, lucky or unlucky for you, I'm not allowed to kill you. But my father's a surgeon and I can think of plenty of ways to keep my promise without sending you off to the next world." His dark eyes flicker past the drill and land on Adam.  
  
"Assuming you fuckin' augs get to go there anyways... Aaanyway. Listen. These can get a little messy so- I'd rather not use it but if I don't- you won't take me seriously when I tell you 'no teeth' later. Mm?"

He takes a step closer and pins the drill-bit under Adam's clavicle. He doesn't hesitate to switch it on and pop it through his skin. He pulls it back quickly, a small little spatter of blood sent out onto the couch by the spinning before he could turn it off.  
  
Someone makes a disdainful noise at the desk. "Tsk, Khanj- Sharukh's not gonna like that on the fabric."  
  
"Sharukh shouldn't of asked for a drill, then." Khanjar hissed over his shoulder. Jai had taken to sitting at the other end of the sofa, tapping on his phone.  
  
"You guys know Ming is offering four crores for this guy?"  
  
"Does he even know who he is?"  
"-Guess so." This is said through chewing gum.  
"Does he know Sharukh wants him to go back to Sarif?"  
"I told him, man. That's why he's offering four crores."  
"Uh! Damnit... Fuck Sarif. That's enough for the car I want."  
  
Khanjar unzips his trousers then and leans forward, catching himself on the back of the couch over Adam.  
"Hey, buddy, remember? No teeth."  
The drill whines for a second.

= * =

 _Pretty guy_ .  
  
Adam is taken back briefly to his first rape case on the face - it had unsettled him for several days. To the point he couldn’t sleep - walking into that and  
  
he had sat with him for a while at the hospital  
his family had disowned him for being gay and  
said that his rapist called him a _pretty_ boy and  
  
Detach now.  
Cope later.  
  
He starts combing over everything in his head now that it’s mostly clear, now that his HUD is no longer a sad, sad sputter. If they have his wrists bound loose enough and he _needs_ to escape, maybe he can pop the blade back and out of his elbows. He doesn’t know if they’ve noticed the slats built into his jacket for them - doesn’t think they’re being _that_ careful.  
  
Not yet, anyway.  
  
Adam listens to them talk about him in monetary value - his augs were enough as it was, but if they wanted to - Oh. He furrows his eyes at this _Ming_ not being able to have him. He wonders why --  
  
The metallic screech freezes his blood ice - instantly. completely. He tenses up rigid and he doesn’t mean to show it startles him that much but. His shoulders do not ease, he does not work the tension from his muscles. He just lays stiff and still on the couch, fingers curled into the palms of his hands. Adam gives a stuttery, soft noise and snaps his eyes to look directly at Jai. then the drill.  
  
The sentinel shudders.  
He says nothing.  
  
The religiously driven comment nearly floods right past him - he catches it for a moment and moves to tug it close, only to be caught completely off-guard by the teeth comment. _Ah._ Oh. That was, That was his plan. His own catch his cheek and he bites and bites and bites and bites to tap his anger down.

Adam does squirm a bit as Khanjar fucking - fucking lines that drill bit right up with his clavicle and Adam sees a pretty shade of gold with his vicious choke. That burn flares right through him and clatters messily. rattles his stomach and chest and spiders up his neck. The skin puckers angry and red for a short time - the blood sliding hot down before sizzling closed.  
  
He hisses, unable to help it.  
It’s soft and threatening, but -  
  
_"Does he know Sharukh wants him to go back to Sarif?"_  
  
David _has_ to know what’s going on. Adam needs to get out of here - as much as he’d like to believe that whenever they’re done with him that they’re going to return him to Sarif, he has no reason to fucking trust them. He squirms a bit and flexes his arms again -  
  
He doesn’t startle as Khanjar leans over him - but later comes _much_ sooner than expected. His eyes flicker down at the fingers fumbling with the zipper and then back up to him. the drill. there’s something dark in his eyes - something muzzy and foggy but the thread of some promise nonetheless. his lips twitch in the start of a snarl at the wail of that drill  
  
but he doesn’t move as if to fight him. just sighs through his nose and lets his eyes fall and he hasn’t _loathed_ himself in a very, very long time. And yet, for some reason…  
  
Adam fights back the urge to hide his face and just take whatever punishment comes to follow. He unhooks though - pulls his claws free and lets himself riddle completely cold. There’s no fire in his chest or his veins and he can smell the blood from his clavicle.  
  
“Told ya he’d like him,” The one from the table looks up and over at them, snorting as he slams half the stack on the table, “Khanj, really?”  
  
There’s a pause and he leans forward on an elbow to rest his chin in his palm, “how’re you gonna do that and _not_ take a pic to send to Ming?” a smirk as he leans back in his chair and takes a swig of whiskey, “tease em a bit - revenge for the ones he sent _us_ last week.”

= * =

"Shut up." Khanjar growls. "I know what I'm doing, damnit. Now, open up, Jensen."  
  
Jai snaps a picture while blowing a pink bubble with his chewing gum, his leg bouncing. "Yeah, gonna make Ming real mad, but he never stays mad for long."  
  
"You know his favourites are Americans, though."  
"Yeah, cause they're usually the prettiest."  
"Eh, according to him."  
  
Khanjar didn't necessarily seem to be enjoying himself, despite his erection. "Get that nice and wet- Good boy."  
  
The drill had been brought close between them.  
  
"And don't even think about using that damn tech to call your boyfriend." Someone chuckled. "I can get that out without killin' ya."  
  
He'd pull away- hesitating to exchange glances with Jai. The younger man shrugs, before jerking his chin at Darukh, who was currently leaning against the doorframe.  
  
The larger man grimaces.  
"Not this time. That's your activity, Khan."  
"Maaan," Jai whines. "But you got the fattest dick of all of us, that's the point."  
Darukh rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette.  
  
Jai rolls his too. "Alright. Ok, Khan, do your best with what you got, man."  
"Listen, fuck you, kid. And gimme that."  
"Hah! Why?"  
"Listen, just because he's in for a bad time doesn't mean I gotta have one too, give it."

A bottle of lube was tossed over. In fact, a few items were tossed around. Darukh tossed a familiar remote onto the sofa near them. A remote EMP device.  He grumbles. "Got maybe a couple more shots in it." He adds.  
  
Jai takes it and messes around with it. "Man, it's crazy. This lil' thing turns off your stuff, huh?"  
  
The smoker by the window turns to look, revealing an eye patch. "That's why I took out the fuckin' eye my family got for me. Like I want that unnatural shit in my head."  
  
Jai brings it close to Khanjar and Adam, the former trying to yank the man's trousers down, the drill still clutched in one hand. Jai fires off the EMP without much of a care before leaning back again, crossing his legs and reaching behind him for a plastic cup filled with boba.  
  
"Alright- buddy- be good for me, huh?"  
  
\---  
  
"Mr. Sarif!" The familiar voice of Devi. She was knocking. She usually just called- this must be important?  
  
He opens the door to find her proffering his mail. What was so strange about-?  
  
"I went to fetch your mail. This was on top and-... I thought you may want to see it..."

A red card on the top, scrawled with fine penmanship in white ink. Why was she making such a fuss over--?  
  
"If you will ignore me, we must fight. And I will win."  
  
David was worldly enough to recognize this as some reiteration of words by Mahatma Ghandi. Fitting. But it did put a cold pit in his stomach to read.  
  
It was suffixed by a simple 'पापी'.  
  
David couldn't read Hindi yet. But that scrawling was familiar to him. It had been written and scored onto his car, the side of his condo complex and his warehouses before.  
  
Sinner.  
  
He had a very profound feeling that he knew who sent this.  
  
Upon arrival, it didn't take long for David to be met with a local billionaire by the name of Shahrukh Darula who had his finger in every major business transaction that ever affected "his" city. He did _not_ like Sarif and, most of all, _hated_ augmentation technology, believing it to be full of hubris that laughed in the face of gods like Lord Shiva. Leave creation and destruction to the gods, for we are not them.  
  
He made this quite clear to Sarif upon their first meeting, but was...polite. He was good at that. And Sarif respected the talent, for it was one he'd been forced to learn as well.  
  
Despite quoting Ghandi at him, however-- in his experience, Shahrukh didn't conquer with love.  
  
He swallowed, a welling of panic threatened to cut him off under the knee. He turns the paper over. An address? His blood ran cold.

"Dev-.." He felt light-headed. She reached out to steady him, dropping the other mail.  
  
"Take me down to the kid's place." He breathes. She nods.  
  
Koller got an urgent knock on his door.  
  
"Václav." Came the unusually wavering intonation Koller should recognize by now. David hovered near the door, shirt barely tucked into his trousers and unbuttoned as he'd hurriedly thrown it on with Devi's help.  
  
"I need yo- You've been down in the city." He says; Would shove the red letter into his hands.  
  
"I bet you know who wrote this."

= * =

Detach now.  
  
And he does - he’s quite proud of himself. Sick and thick and hot and tired, he’s so tired and he just wants to get home and claw his hands down his body in a scalding shower til his skin is red and _new_ and  
  
he’ll claw at his ports but that’s okay it’s not like  
  
_Good Boy_  
  
Oh.  
Ah.  
His stomach crunches and snarls with nausea; but he doesn’t let it show. Doesn’t let it show that it _bothers_ him that much. No. No they won’t fucking take that away from him. He’s worked so hard to be comfortable with himself, his augs - Regardless of how they feel about them. He’ll _deal_ with this and then he’ll move forward, forward. he has to. he fucking has to.  
  
Adam wishes his jaw didn’t _ache_ .  
Wishes the sentinel could take care of that.  
  
But the drill  
it  
screams and Jai fidgets with something and  
  
hits him with the EMP again - everything vacates. the chatter in his head, his strength. his thought of using the blades - his hands can no longer tremble even if they _wanted_ to. Adam just - Adam just closes his eyes. Conscious but detached.  
  
Cope later, Adam.  
When you’re back with David and _safe_ .  
  
Cope later.  
  
\----  
  
It’s been a slow day - he’s had a client or two but nothing like the usual handful stopping back to see him. There’s something fuckin strange in the air today and he  
  
well, Václav can’t put his finger on it. He’s reclined back in his own chair, leg up on one of the tables as he taps his thumbs against his phone, the jingle of some time-killing game filling the quiet air of his workspace. Hm. He hasn’t bothered Pritchard in a couple days, maybe he’d just saddle up and go do that soon.  
  
He enjoyed the hacker’s company and his strange art house films -  
It’d been awhile since he’d had good company; Malik had gone on and on and on about how much of a dick Pritchard was and hell, Koller just didn’t see it. Well, not the way she seemed to see it.

Václav just thought Frank a bit strange but fuck - he was a bit strange too. It worked out. sometimes. when Pritchard wasn’t being a grumpy fuck -  
  
He startles at the knock on his door and knits his brows together, “Hold on!” he calls out, settling his phone next to him and rolling his shoulders to ease out the settling stiffness.  
  
“Sarif?” He looks taken aback as he - he pulls the man in, and Devi as well. closing the door gently behind him. His concern instantly spikes at Sarif’s general...state of dress. He wouldn’t be this disheveled if not for an emergency.  
  
He swallows, “I...yeah I do work in the town?” tailing off in confusion as the letter is shoved in his hands. Václav wrinkles his nose a bit and paces away from Sarif, stretching his legs a bit as he holds a sigh, letting it burn, before exhaling.  
  
“Yeah - I do,” he pauses for a moment and turns back to Sarif, “There’s...There’s a gang that likes to try and fuck with me while i’m out in town man, the locals told me they go by…”  
  
he rolls his hand, trying to remember, “the Knife of Shiva, I think.”  
  
Václav runs his thumb over the letter, “Bad, bad dudes. Fuckin can’t stand augged people. I befriended another group down where I do most of my work and they’ve told me stories…” he taps his fingers on the table as he thinks.  
  
“Why, where the hell did you get this?” Václav holds it up to Sarif, “These guys are nothin to fuck with Da-”  
  
he pauses, eyes suddenly softening in concern.  
  
Oh.  
  
David was...never without -  
  
“Adam,” these days, “Where is he?”

= * =

David looks miserable as he steps in and was the definition of tense as he hovers behind Koller. "You do." He echoes him.  
  
His hands were tightly balled. His eyes flicker distant. He tries not to panic. "So then- you've heard the name Sharukh Darula. You're telling me they're connected."  
  
It was something David had always heavily suspected. Koller's experience and his immediate recognition was enough.  
  
Which causes him to feel the bubbling of panic again. He quickly takes the card back.  
  
"Damnit, Václav! There was no avoiding it. Sharukh and I- He fuckin' hates me- told me.."  
  
His eyes flicker sideways as he dredges up a memory. "Told me- 'Don't think you can come and make Mumbai your new Detroit, Mr. Sarif.'"  
  
Adam's name doesn't allow him to stay in the distance for long and he takes a sharp breath, turning toward him. David had a habit of gesticulating wildly when anxious.  
  
" _That's_ why I'm here...! He hasn't come back since this morning an- And Devi found this an' I just _know_ Sharukh knows about--.." He took a sharp breath, turning around and running a hand through his hair to calm himself.  
  
You're getting too wild, David. It could be nothing. Nothing. Nothing.  
  
He brings his hand forward to his temple, to help him focus as he tries to ping Adam again. He swallows. Nothing.  
  
The worst kind of nothing.

"Václav, what do I do?" He asks quietly. For once, he doesn't know the right move. Does he wait? Does he call Darula? Does he completely humiliate himself under the chance this was all bullshit? No- it couldn't be. Sharukh doesn't mince his words or go back on them.  
  
"I've been... Sorta holed up here. Sharukh's been trying to get a hold of me to - ya know, intimidate me, the usual. I haven't gone to meet him for his little 'lunch dates of persecution.'"  
  
David sighs shakily. In fact, he's been so worried about making the wrong move that he hasn't quite moved as much as he should. That's right, own up to it, David. You knew it.  
  
You knew you still had it but you let a few scrapes scare you stiff.  
  
"We're not making unreasonable leaps in judgment here, are we, son? There's a-... There's an address on the back of it." He offers the card for him to see.

= * =

Václav - Oh.  
  
Oh Václav gives a small, stuttery thing of a sigh. Crosses his arms over his chest and feels them hum. tremble. he brushes his finger against a dash of peeling paint.  
  
“Shit,” he finally gives David, “Yeah, yeah man I...Sharukh isn’t too fond of my work, according to those Shiva fucks.”  
  
David all but snatches the card of out of his hands and Koller lets him, lost in thought for a moment. He hadn’t of even - thought… No, he hadn’t thought. He hadn’t their harassment would ever manifest into anything like _this_ . Maybe he should have brought it up to David - maybe he could have prevented something -  
  
Focus, Václav.  
No time for should haves, you know that.  
  
His shoulders drop and he flinches a little at David's outburst. his canine catches his cheek and he bites, he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen David so pitiful, so panicked. he reaches up and drags his tooled fingers across his own jaw - the bit of pain prickling some sobriety back into him. the pleasant fog dissipates, he’s left feeling disturbingly grounded. clear.  
  
“coz you’re a threat,” he says suddenly, leaning against one of his tables and pressing his weight into his forearms, “Men - Men like _him_ ...” like things stagnant, they don't like ripples in their lakes, he groans instead of completing his sentence.  
Men like Darula were the reason that Rucker was a passing laugh within Prague’s aug population - what was _talking it out_ to somebody like _him_ going to do? Koller frowns. hard.  
  
“I’m familiar with men like him,” he finally settles on lifting his eyes again to look at Sarif, “Listen they…”  
  
how does he put this?  
  
“...won’t kill ‘em,” he says after a moment’s pause, rolling his hand again, “Ha, I - trust me on this.”  
  
He never saw Otar kill anyone unless they uh...outlived their purpose.  
  
Koller had a feeling his own had been wearing thin.  
  
Thanks, Adam.  
Hope I can return the favor now

“Whatcha need to do is,” Koller pushes up and away from the table and taps the back of the card when he approaches, the address, “that. you gotta, fuck. you gotta go.”  
  
Koller tries to ping Adam and lingers on it for a moment-  
  
He gets nothing.  
  
“Hey hey heyheyhey,” Kollers holds his arms up to scatter the panicked energy, gently reaching towards him and, and he buttons Sarif’s shirt. he moves slow - scared of startling the poor frightened thing, “Lemme go with you.”  
  
He motions at Devi, “No offense but your security looks uh, like _security_ . He may take that as a threat you know?” Václav works on slowly tucking David’s shirt the best he can, “they won’t see me as much of anything - and uh...w...whatever they’ve done to him, I can stabilize.”  
  
There’s no if.  
He prays that doesn’t petrify David sick but he,  
he knows how this works. he knows the slime and the grunge, the belly-born money parasites that think that all their meat is sacred and holy - The Knife of Shiva had nearly pinned him once --  
  
He heard their casual disgust, smooth talking terrorists with a lust for oil in their teeth - creatures of a different sort. hulking and lazy, a hazed printed paradox. needling teeth touched brown with blood.  
  
He preferred the Dvali.  
  
“I know Adam’s augs,” he argues, softly as he looks at David, smoothing out the fabric of his top, “Let me _help_  David...I owe that to him.”  
  
To you, too.  
But I know that’s not your concern right now.

= * =

David almost seems to blanch when Koller says the words 'won't kill him'.  
  
Everything else, he knew. Sharukh didn't wanna rock the boat of his dominion and, whether he was directed by the Illuminati or not, it didn't matter. They were enemies and that was that.  
  
But he wasn't prepared to have Adam involved. You idiot, David. If you didn't think men like Sharukh wouldn't use anything at their disposal, you're a complete dumbass. You did it in Detroit.  
  
But you never...hurt anyone.  
  
He looks pitifully at the address for a long moment. Pitifully. It's actually... Residential. It's Sharukh's actual address.  
  
Hrm. His eyes unfocus for a moment. He could use this later, he was quite sure. He hands it to Devi.  
  
"Keep that for me." She nods before both she and David look at Koller wide-eyed.  
  
"With me? Ah- h-... Son, I know you've been in some-" An exhale.  Fuck. He frowns as Václav tucks in his shirt. That was... thoughtful.  
  
Embarrassing for David but thoughtful.  
  
He looks down at their feet, shoulders quite visibly tensing and he has a moment of self-awareness and gratitude that tense shoulders seem to be the worst of his anxiety at the moment.  
  
Why was that?  
  
Oh- because he was _so_ angry. That's why.

David shivers, pushing Václav away gently as he turns away. He didn't remember with much clarity the last time he was this angry. A lifetime ago, now, though it was only two years ago. When he'd lost everything. He was, first, angry.  
  
But David's anger had always been less volcanic and more glacial. Bitterly cold.  
  
"Alright, fine. Come with me. Devi, get the car ready, I need to get my jacket from upstairs." He orders finally.  
  
\---  
  
Back downtown, Khanjar had grown tired of harassing poor Adam and had retreated to the window to have a smoke, leaving Darukh and another, Arjit, to take the reins.  
  
They'd left the hitting and bloodletting for afterwards- though remarkably, Darukh had yanked up the man's trousers (though didn't care to buckle them back up) after they'd finished with their earlier torment.  
  
Instead, he had the drill pinned against his shoulder and Darukh's large hand over his throat, pinning him to the sofa.  
  
"Sharukh said to be careful, idiot."  
"Then why aren't you doing this. After all, isn't your daddy a surgeon?"  
"Buddy, I need a smoke, aight?"  
  
"Taking a break?"  
The drill stopped for a moment as everyone in the room looked up to another body in the doorway. They all stopped to give him some form of a namaste, even Darukh, with the drill in his hand.  
  
Sharukh. It had to be.

He was smoking a cigar, sunglasses pushed up into his greying hair. He had dark, south Indian skin and neat facial hair. His grey suit, clearly an expensive thing like everything else in the house, was freshly pressed and- it seemed as though the lapels were studded with small rubies. It looked bloody.  
  
He purses his lips and regards the room, stuffing a hand in his pocket. Dark eyes land on Adam and he gives a small nod and a long sigh.  
Khanjar quickly ashes his cigarette and approaches.  
"Sharukh- We did as you asked."  
"You certainly did."  
  
Sharukh's tone was surprisingly gentle. And yet, they were all nervous. As he gestures, Darukh quickly goes back to work, pressing the drill bit against the base of Adam's shoulder mount and turning it on.  
  
Sharukh watches through half-lidded eyes. During a pause in the whining, he gestures with his cigar vaguely, leaving a snake trail of smoke.  
  
"I gave David a choice and he chose not to take me seriously." He says, tilting his head the other way.  
  
"For your sake and the sake of my sofa-" He takes a drag. "Let us hope he re-evaluates our relationship."

= * =

Václav watches the color drain from David’s face.  
Ah.  
Yeah.  
He had been uh - trying to prevent that but he wasn’t going to _lie_ to him. Adam was - was more than likely -- he sighs at the thought. He just hoped it was (physical) damage he could fix. Anything further than that and…  
  
Koller picks back up his phone and shoots Pritchard a message, something along the lines of helping David with an emergency involving Adam and hey if I don’t message you back in a couple hours you wanna call me and make sure i’m not dead thanks.  
  
He’d figure _someone_ should know what’s going on.  
He couldn’t lie - he didn’t know what to expect out of Sharukh. Out of the Knife of Shiva. So tightly twined in the false, outdated belief of a god they thought they knew. Koller had seen it a thousand times before - Religion drove people mad, sick. When they had nothing else, they prayed.  
  
Prayer wasn’t going to fix mangled limbs, _assholes_ .  
  
_He_ could though - people welcomed him into their houses and fed him dinners and lunches and cried as he installed or fixed augs and made them feel like miracles. Crunched limbs, deformities; A young mother had cried into his shoulder at finally being able to hold her child in two perfectly functioning arms.  
  
That’s why - despite their harassment - he kept going. He kept pushing. He had protection down there, sure - though he had almost been waiting for one of them to get too close. shove too hard. he’d -  
  
David perks up and his eyes - oh, they do this beautiful thing where they sharpen. curl cold. Václav finds himself with the ghost of a smile, thinking it fits him so much better than the disheveled pitiful look he had swept in with mere moments ago. Sarif gently pushes him away and he doesn’t mind, pocketing his phone as he raises a brow and dares him to argue the company.

...David doesn’t deny him and he nods. determined. tossing his beloved lab coat across his chair and snatching the larger flannel crammed into the corner of his work bench. It’s creased and soft - sleeves enough to cover him but he  
  
rolls them up - like fuck they were going to make him feel any shame for what he had. “Coming,” he chirps, keeping pace with him - he wasn’t nervous, so what was the burning worry in his chest for?  
  
The state of Adam, he concludes after a moment.  
  
\---  
  
Adam almost wishes they’d go back to -  
He growls through his teeth and swallows tight under the palm pinning his throat. his teeth ache - he’s been clenching them since the beginning and he think that soon he’s going to fucking crack them. The wailing screech of the drill is a ruckus in his head - it shatters any rational thought and mutilates any motivation to get away.  
  
His hips are sore, his thighs are fucking wet.  
sticking together and he _hates_ that and his shoulder is wet from where they’ve brushed skin and caught blood and his HUD is sobbing at this point.  
  
Adam can’t _concentrate_ oh god his  
  
head  
goes quiet as the drill does  
  
he gasps sharp - hadn’t quite realizing he had been holding that in. shoulders trembling, arm trembling - the other is borderline unresponsive. His eyes flicker up, hazed and heaped with the coagulation of pain. pain. his vision flickering red, furious. furious. he’s _furious_ .  
  
The predator floods back - his augs swelling with something untold and he bares his teeth as if to snap out a growl and then the drill comes screaming back, this time finding a stuttering, bouncing home in the mount of his shoulder. his original want of a snarl turns into a barked howl of pain - the vibration rattles his entire frame and his head _hurts_ .  
  
David - god, David.  
I’m sorry  
I’m sorry I’m sorry  
  
I can’t --  
  
His skin crawls and he tries to jerk away pitifully from the source of agony, face pressed tight to skin, to couch.

= * =

And, despite the occasional spray of blood, the others lazed around, playing with their phones or smoking.  
  
Sharukh's presence didn't deter them from their work, though- it wouldn't be long before there was another distraction.  
  
Sharukh had paced away a few minutes later, leaving them to talk.  
  
"Maan- you think he'll come?"  
"Who, Sarif?"  
"Naw- the brahmas."  
"Tsk, ass- Yeah- I dunno. Prolly."  
"Sharukh says he will, so he probably will."  
"Mmph. You hear that, pretty boy? Your boyfriend's comin' to get ya."  
  
\---  
  
David had quickly fetched his suit, taken Devi's gun and tucked it against his ribs under his jacket and urged Václav into the car before they sped through the throngs of bodies in Mumbai's crowded streets. David is quite sure he's hit someone already in his bid to reach the address.  
  
He's quiet the entire way until they find the gate and private drive they're looking for.  
  
As he dreaded, gangsters stalked the courtyard and, as the gate was opened for him, he steps on the gas and urges them open roughly, some satisfaction derived from the way one kid dove out of the way.  
  
He yanks the keys out and leaves them on the seat. They wouldn't dare, anyway.  
  
He gives Václav a look. "Watch my back, kiddo."  
  
They were surrounded almost immediately by a small group. They whooped and hollered in Hindi, waving guns like toys and David knew they wouldn't kill him.

And that was enough. They could shoot him, but Sharukh wouldn't let them kill him. It would ruin his image. That fueled his bravery as he shouldered one out of his way and he storms to the door.  
  
"Tough guy, huh?"  
"Woah, woah- Mr. Sarif-"  
"Does he have a gun-?"  
"Who's this with him?"  
"Some kid?"  
"Slow down!"  
"No, grab him!"  
  
It was chaos. Either no one knew what to do, or they tried to follow some semblance of protocol. The front door was opened and, in the den, Khanjar, Jai and the others leaped from their seats, having seen the car leave a skid in the courtyard. Darukh kept a hand on Adam, but the drill stops. He looks up to watch the foyer through the doorway.  
  
Sharukh had since left, likely to his office upstairs, but Khanjar and his ilk quickly leaped to halt Sarif's entry.  
  
Darukh smirks at Adam. "Guess your sugar daddy's here, huh? Heh- Didn't think he'd show."  
  
"Where-"  
"David! There you are." The unsettling croon of Sharukh as he circled around into the foyer from a back room. Sarif had a dozen hands on him, trying to keep him from tearing his way further into the house.  
  
Someone had found his gun and tossed it into someone else's hands after a proud declaration of having found it.  
  
"Behave. Or he dies."  
  
David glances sidelong, off Sharukh's look, and he felt his vision blur from panic at what he sees in the den. He lunges in Adam's direction- eliciting another din of shouts as hands grip his suit and pull back.

"David. What did I say?" Sharukh jerks his chin at Darukh, who would dutifully bring the drill up to Adam's temple.  
  
Sarif felt as though he'd been plunged into ice water, his knees going weak. Suddenly he's thankful for just a moment of the hands on him. They keep him up long enough for him to regain control. He snaps his attention at Sharukh, who smiles.  
  
"That's better. Let him." He says to the gangsters. They let him go.  
  
Sarif stays put. And it takes everything he has.  
  
"I'm here." He hates the way his voice sounds. "Let him go."  
  
"Oh, no, no. See- that's not how this works, David. First, you tell me what I want to hear. And then, perhaps-- _maybe_ , I'll let you all go back home."  
  
Sarif makes a noise as he's catching his breath that he hates himself for.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Sharukh steps a little closer, taking a drag of his cigar. He exhales in Sarif's face.  
  
"When we first met, was I not polite? We could have been friends, you know."  
  
"Friendship on your terms would have been anything but, Sharukh." Sarif offers a retort. Sharukh grimaces.  
  
"Nevertheless... Everyone in this _god damned city_ \--" Sharukh had raised his voice to a yell as he began to circle David.  
  
"Belongs to me! Including your fucking abomination there!" He whips a hand toward Adam.  
  
"And it will be by _my_ mercy that you walk out of here with your lives."  
  
The gangsters tensed around them, though the anger wasn't directed at them. Sarif didn't move. Sharukh and he had each other affixed with a deadly scrutiny.  
  
As if both were hunting for weakness. But the smell of blood had always made David sick. Sharukh seemed to be spurred by it.

= * =

Koller flexes his fingers as Sarif tears through bodies on the road.  
his augs hum, swell.  
Mm.  
He readies himself for the lion’s den -  
  
Steady on tucking the claws away; to present himself as prey. prey. he’d listen to them pray for his blood and keep himself composed and calm. You can do this Václav, it’s not like you haven’t before.  
  
He narrows his eyes and squares his shoulders as he sits forward, no longer finding any sort of anxiety in the jerkiness of David’s driving. He didn’t blame him and quite honestly, this was a welcomed change from the pitiful thing that had snapped into his condo just a short while ago.  
  
Václav _liked_ this Sarif.  
He was more respectable, this way  
and far, far more terrifying.  
  
The keys are thrown to the seat and he, only nods at the command. Looking to David and lingering on him for a moment, “Gotcha.” He steps out, instantly surrounded by a group of skulking predators. Their eyes were vacant - their words layered upon the rhetoric of another storybook deity. Someone brushes close to him and he bristles, keeping tight to Sarif’s back and his lips twitch in the crinkle of some snarl.  
  
Sarif walks brisk - Kingly.  
Václav falls into line behind him, shoulders arched and proud in the wake of a heap of beasts. Eyes lidded, trying to remain level, casual. His arm simmers hot - he’s ready to strike if necessary.  
  
Kid, he overhears.  
Yeah, yeah - Kid.  
Sure.  
  
Adam chokes on a noise as the grinding of the drill stops in his teeth and he hangs his head, a hot swallow barreling down his throat. dry. it hurts - fuck. The sentinel is cacophonous, he can barely fucking hear over it but something is  
  
changing, happening. the atmosphere is shifting and he’s picking up his head to. to see. try to see. vision unfocused and blurred from the pain. God he. he’s. he’s.  
  
David.

Adam tenses up a bit and swallows tight against Darukh’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and then opening them again. He can’t bring himself to look at his shoulder - the skin around it is throbbing and he can’t fucking feel any of it he can only. imagine. the ruin they’ve left. the slurry of alloy and polycarbonate and gore. His mount has to be destroyed - he. can’t --  
  
Václav turns hard at the hands that grab at him too - he swats sharp and snarls quiet at one, “I don’t have any fuckin guns.” He lifts his flannel up and flares it for emphasis, “Get _off_ .” He keeps close to David, half turned - one of his hands included in the dozens on him.  
  
His eyes flicker to Sharukh and the earlier nausea blooms as he glances briefly at Adam after David’s panicked lunge - the smell and sight of the blood and Koller...  
  
Koller turns his eyes back towards the writhing pack shifting nervously as if they wanted to circle. Sharukh says to let David go - they do. Václav does as well - backing off a respectable distance as he approaches Sarif. He doesn’t want to further  
  
_this_ . this. what do you even call this ritual?  
  
But he keeps on guard, eyes flickering back to Adam’s again and oh - oh he can. just see the blood on the drill and is that a chunk of - pressed to Jensen’s temple. a very, very real threat.  
  
Adam near stutters out a noise - something furious. It clatters in his throat and shakes. shakes. he swallows it sick and he’s vehemently - he wants to  
  
snap his jaw in skin in flesh and pull and  
  
_David_ .  
  
He’s fogged with pain and he can hear the rattling of his own skull, the snapped and shiny pieces of aug that have managed to crunch into the bubbling, frothing mess of his mount. his shoulder. “Mmmn,” he near moans in pain, shifting and gasping as things _shift_ that aren’t supposed to ever move and it rockets through his clavicle and hardwires into his heart -

= * =

Sarif wasn't sure how he managed to keep himself standing. He felt his strength trickle out of him the more he thought about just _what_ had transpired here while he was...At home.  
  
Always at home.  
  
No wonder he felt sick all day.  
  
He felt his anger froth over- the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  
  
"Noted. What do you want?" He asks again. Sharukh wasn't pleased by the idea of letting this go by quickly. Sarif could tell immediately.  
  
Sarif's attention whipped sideways at the sound of Adam's anguished groan. Quiet and heartbreaking.  
  
And all _he_ wanted to do was run over, tear that thing off his Adam and fill the foyer with blood-- David... That's not like you. But, _oh_ ... Do you want it badly.  
  
"What I want, is to see you- and all those like you- dead. I wonder- why is it you were fated to survive while so many others perished?"  
  
David felt himself near slaver as he glared at Sharukh, wide-eyed. He was quite sure that he could kill him if he really wanted to. He takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself.  
  
"Sharukh." David warns. Sharukh doesn't seem phased. He only rolls his shoulders as he circled him, finally coming to stop in front of him.  
  
"You're going to leave Mumbai, David" He gestures vaguely. "And you're going to stop this...disgusting necromancy of yours."  
  
Sarif exhales, considering the mere possibility of listening to him. He immediately decided he wouldn't.

"You're also going to get on your knees and beg for me to let you go."  
  
Wait, what? Sarif's eyes refocus on Sharukh, who smiles with his eyes. Sarif realizes he must have made a face, as Sharukh's brows raise.  
  
"Well, then perhaps you'll beg for me to let _him_ go?"  
  
It must have been some signal, as Darukh squeezes Adam's throat and jams the drill under his mount and switches it back on.  
  
Sarif lurches toward them- only for another burst of voices to herald another flurry of hands pulling him back as Sharukh, hand still in his pocket, took the gun handed to him with his other. It was Sarif's.  
  
He holds it up easily, aiming for his head. Sarif has to stop- feeling his heels slip on the marble, enough to leave a mark as he ceased his struggling.  
  
"And, oh, but if it kills you to do so- Then let me save you the trouble?"  
  
Fuck. Sharukh jerks his chin and they back off once more. He gestures vaguely to the floor in front of him and Sarif feels sick to his stomach.  
  
He glances sidelong at Adam- his heart felt like it was undergoing abscission without anaesthetic.  His strength saps- he exhales a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and lets that inspire his defeat. He needed to. Or Adam would--  
  
He drops to his hands and knees, tired.  
  
"Good boy." Sharukh licked his teeth, keeping the gun trained. "Now beg me."(edited)

"Please." He whispers.  
  
"So they can hear you."  
  
Sarif swallows, furrowing his brows. Ignore the giggling. Ignore the voices, the eyes. Brush the fury down.  
  
"David." A warning. His last chance.  
  
"Please. Let him go. I-.. Sharukh, I'll do...anything. Just-- Please stop hurt-- hurting-- him."  
  
"Good. What else?"  
  
He glowered madly at the tile. Felt his spine tremble. "...I'll leave. It's your city, you're right. You win--! Please let him go."  
  
Sharukh laughs.  
"You're a natural. Now kiss my boot."  
  
Sarif takes a sharp breath. The hammer clicks into place and Sarif is very sure that wasn't necessary anymore.  
  
He taps down any remaining enmity that might cost Adam any more suffering. And leans forward.  
  
To kiss the damn devil's boot.

= * =

Adam meets Václav’s eyes.  
A pained, silent _thank you_ lives there.  
For being here, he has to guess.  
  
Václav doesn’t nod, he just sighs through his nose and swallows tight, his throat bobbing. It bothers him - this _disturbs_ him. This room is seeping with people that would rather see him, their family, their neighbors _dead_ than augmented. How could you hate other people so much to wish a god’s wrath upon them?  
  
Sharukh wasn’t any god, wasn’t any king, wasn’t any flavor of royalty -  
He was only a coward, hiding behind a some twisted scripture. False gods false gods false prophets and his mother had warned him of men and their sharp tongues. Their bites cold and venom filled - Vipers would envy their scales.  
  
If Adam’s life didn’t rest on this, Václav might have thought to open his fucking mouth. But he keeps it closed, haunts the space beyond and keeps ready. ready. turns to a body slowly encroaching and rumbles out some noise, lip twitching as it. stops. stops and the eyes flicker to look at him.  
  
Koller - Koller wanted blood on David’s behalf.  
  
Dead.  
He wants us dead.  
Predictable.  
Maybe Sharukh wasn’t so different after all - another power hungry herald for his _god_ . David says his name low, low. a warning. Adam even seems to perk up, his pale face curling with some sort of emotion that Václav couldn’t make out from here.  
  
_disgusting necromancy_ .  
  
Koller is glad he hasn’t addressed him - why would he though? He wasn’t important, just an after thoug-  
  
Beg.  
He startles.  
Adam’s eyes flare wide, wild.

He flits forward to bare his teeth and tell David not to - don’t degrade yourself to _that_ and then - then the drill hits again and he lets out something _agonized_. A crackle, not quite a screech but it’s _angry_ and pained and choked by the squeezing of his throat. the drill buries under his mount in the already sensitive, furious skin and it sets fire to all his nerves. He arches strong under Darukh’s hand and nearly lifts off the couch, trying to jerk away _get away from me get the fuck off o f m e  i ca  n t_  
  
the blood bubbles hot and sacred down his shoulder, soaks into the sofa and Koller watches in horror - he. he doesn’t know. if he can fix _that_ damage. Oh. oh that’s. Between the image of Sarif begging, kneeling to kiss this fuck’s boot and Adam so furious, Koller doesn’t know _what_ to do.  
  
He keeps his arm poise, rubbing his tooled fingers together and shifting anxiously. It prickles down into his legs and the balls of his feet - he’s never heard Adam near scream before and he never fucking wants to again. He’s never seen David so whipped, defeated, and he _never_ fucking wants to again.  
  
The most he can do is stand, helpless.  
And wait for them to release Adam so he can - he can steal him away and take a look at the damage that - oh god they’re using a fucking _drill_ on him...

= * =

David had pinched his eyes shut; Listening to Adam's plaintive, heartrending cry undid his remaining willpower.  
  
Sharukh seemed to notice. He lifts the toe of his boot to tap his chin.  
  
"Good boy, David. You're lucky I'm in a pleasant mood today!"  
  
He tilted his head as if to catch a glimpse of Sarif's expression. Sarif turns his own head away- an inferno threatening to engulf him completely.  
  
He remains on the ground. Just... Keep this up until he lets him go, David. You can do it.  
  
"Alright." Sharukh chirped, clearly high on his apparent victory as he takes another drag. "Darukh, you may stop."  
  
Darukh, faithfully, lets Adam go and backs up off of him. He hands off the drill to another, who wipes it down rather casually.  
  
"David. You can have your creature back now." He finally adds. David was on his feet in a moment, which seems to displease Sharukh- who thought him quite vanquished. The sudden surge of energy had him bring the gun up threateningly.  
  
"Take him and go. And do not _ever_ let me catch you in my streets again. _Mr.Sarif_ ."  
  
David swallows, but throws himself into the den immediately. Don't cry- don't cry- they'll know you're weak, you're weak, you're pathetic- don't cry- don't give that to them.

He sobs for just a moment, as his knees gave out under him and hes burying his face into Adam's waist. "So-s-Sorry--" He whispers.  
  
The room was deathly quiet, several of the gangsters exchanging wide-eyed glances. No one told them Sarif was _actually_ Jensen's boyfriend. Khanjar seemed to flop back into an armchair in dumbfounded shock.  
  
Why hadn't he made that connection, man? Why did he feel? Kinda fucked up?  
  
No one laughed. Sharukh's nose wrinkles in distaste, but he turns away, letting the gun drop to his side finally.  
  
"Go." He reminded them.  
  
Sarif does. He was hooking his arms under Adam.  
"Oh- god. I know. It hurts. I did this." He lifts, some adrenaline making Adam lighter in his arms. He couldn't stop the tears. He turns.  
  
"Vác- Get his fucking jacket."  
  
He glowers at Darukh. "Cut the hasp." He orders. The man hesitates.  
  
"Cut. The hasp."  
  
Sharukh glances at the exchange, but does nothing to stop Darukh from obeying Sarif as he took a bolt cutter to the braided steel around Adam's wrists; David lifting him to make this easier.  
  
It dropped to the floor and David steps on it. He waits for Sharukh to meet his eyes. And he's sure to give him an unreadable look. No, not angry. That was too cute. Too pleasant.  
  
He approaches, passes him, finally looking away as he steps through the front doors.  
  
"Keep the gun. It's a gift."

"Nothing's stopping me from killing you, David!" Sharukh calls, some invisible grip slipping in his mind. "Remember what I told you!"  
  
Sarif shivers under Adam and he decides he'd have that blood he was craving earlier.  
  
For now--  
  
"Václav, get in the back with him and do what you can with the kit under the seat. We're gonna go meet a friend."

= * =

Adam’s screams stop.  
The sound lingers in the air and Václav shivers under the weight of it.  
  
David keeps to his belly and  
  
Koller is tense. tense. ready. he’s ready and waiting on the word and Sharukh seems so fucking proud of himself and Koller feels the aching in his gut and in the moment, he wants to see the foyer a pretty pick of red - gold was too pure for the atmosphere.  
  
There’s a dry heave, akin to a sob as the drill is out of him and Adam is pressing back into the sofa. Everything is bloody - tacky and sticky. His thighs, his chest, the fabric under him. He’s dazed, hazed and his lip lifts in a snarl and he’s _so incredibly angry_ that he could cry.  
  
He won’t though - because they can fuck him and rip him apart but they, they won’t get _that_ from him. He won’t give them that satisfaction. They already got _enough_ of that out of him.  
  
Václav is pushing past bodies and following David’s lead to Adam as soon as he sees him lurch - he snarls at someone on the way and skitters to a stop as David buries his head against Adam’s waist and there’s an echo of a sob and his pants are -  
  
…  
  
he looks at them in legitimate  
absolute  
horror.  
he recognizes a few of them.  
Darukh. Khanjar. Jai.  
  
_This_ in the name of Shiva?  
He wants to ask them, wants to demand it of them. wants to know if this is what - fuck. he squeezes his hands and twitches as David halves his name. His eyes flicker over to the jacket and he manages to snatch it carefully, draping it over his own shoulder as he skirts back over to the both of them - managing to at least button up Adam’s pants as David hauls him from the couch, demands one to cut the hasp. He doesn’t want them to - to fall and further his - mmmmmnn...  
  
Adam’s head lolls and he goes rigid, fucking rigid at the touch. any touch. hands on him - though he swallows the noise in his throat for now. “D-Dave,” he manages to mutter, the nickname far more personal and the surrounding men would hear it. Oh.

Oh.  
  
“N-Not - your -” He swallows and just gives up trying to argue, sighing shakily as Václav helps bear some of his weight. dead weight. was his arm even attached anymore? there’s a torrent of blood that bubbles down his side at the shift. spatters to the tile and edges the gold as they move him. out. out.  
  
into the air and into the back of a car and Adam - chokes back something akin to a dry sob when Václav shuffles in next to him and is touching his arm. _him._ him.  
  
“ _Please_ ,” his voice wavers quiet and Koller’s eyes soften as he gently pulls his hands away to fetch the kit under his seat.  
  
A swallow, “I’ll do my best but -” he pauses and murmurs something low to Adam as he lays his hands on him again, “I...God I hope your friend is a surgeon too.” His voice tanks on the cusp of something sad and it threatens to shake apart, “Adam - hey, hey big guy I’ma...I’ma try and stop some of this bleedin okay?”  
  
Václav looks up at Sarif as he’s pressing his flannel to the mangled mess of skin and aug, something dark and furious in his eyes. Sarif glances up into the rearview mirror at him  
  
and Koller sees something much, much _darker_.

= * =


End file.
